


Like You Better Framed and Dried

by syrupwit



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubiously Consensual Drug Use, F/F, Road Trips, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-01 10:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17865278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrupwit/pseuds/syrupwit
Summary: Allison takes Vanya on the run.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Tori Amos's song "[Butterfly](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4TuPV23zeu0)."

Allison opened the menu and immediately started scribbling on her notepad. _Huh. I guess they do serve scrapple west of Pittsburgh_. She shoved the notepad across the table to Vanya.  
  
Vanya stayed silent, staring at her place setting. She hadn't looked at Allison since the previous evening. The diner bustled with the morning rush -- people chatting, dishes clattering, the hostess laughing at someone’s joke -- but Vanya was still. Pale and baggy-eyed in winter daylight, her shoulders hunched like an old woman’s, she seemed as stark and rooted as one of the barren trees outside.  
  
Allison rolled her eyes and took her notepad back.  
  
A waitress approached. “Cup of coffee?”  
  
_Could I please get a green tea with honey and lemon_? Allison wrote. She drew a finger across her scarf-wrapped throat and mimed a cough, smiling apologetically.  
  
“Sure thing.” The waitress turned to Vanya. “How about you, honey?”  
  
Allison nudged Vanya’s foot under the table. Vanya just kept staring.  
  
_Long night_ , Allison wrote. _She’ll have black coffee_. As an afterthought: _A glass of orange juice too, please_.  
  
“No problem, dear. I’ll just go get those for you.”  
  
“Thanks,” Allison mouthed, and smiled again at the waitress as she walked away.  
  
_You'll have to talk sometime_ , she wrote. She thrust the notepad under Vanya's nose, waited to see Vanya's lowered eyelids twitch. Then she grabbed the notepad back and flipped to a new page.  
  
While Vanya stared into her coffee, Allison considered how to medicate her next. The last dose might have been too much. She wanted Vanya numb and pliant, not a zombie. For a second, she missed Klaus. He'd know what to do. But he would also probably steal the drugs if he got stressed enough, so.  
  
Allison blew on her tea. Vanya took an experimental sip of coffee and wrinkled her nose. She sipped again, then took a swig. Allison's throat gave a twinge of pain as Vanya swallowed.  
  
The waitress was back. "What'll it be, ladies?"  
  
_Scrambled eggs_ , Allison wrote. _Grilled cheese sandwich for her, cottage cheese and fruit for me. Could we try a side of scrapple?_  
  
The order came. Vanya traced the edges of her placemat, one of those paper diner placemats with local advertisements around the border. Allison diced the scrapple into tiny pieces. She speared one with her fork and chewed cautiously. It had a weird texture, but it wasn't half bad.  
  
Vanya's sandwich remained untouched. Allison nudged her plate, then nudged it again more emphatically. She took her marker and wrote at the top of Vanya's placemat, in clumsy upside-down letters that took too long to form: _You need to EAT_.  
  
Finally Vanya picked up the sandwich. Allison watched. Her first bites were hesitant. Then it appeared to click that she was hungry, and she wolfed down the rest at a truly unattractive pace, fat tears coursing down her cheeks. Allison wondered if she was thinking about Mom.  
  
_Good girl_ , she wrote. _Don't forget your orange juice_.  
  
 

-  
  
 

Next stop was Cleveland. Allison had heard her share of jokes about Ohio, but unless airport layovers counted, she'd never really been there. She found that she liked it after a while: flat fields and twisting roads, fences white with frost, the muddy sky in front of her and naked forests at her sides. Vanya rode shotgun and stared out the window. She didn't protest at Allison's fiddling with the radio. Weather forecast, mattress commercial, Bible study... Allison kept tuning until she landed on a classic rock station.  
  
Vanya still wouldn't look at her, but she tapped her fingers along with ZZ Top.  
  
_We're almost there_ , Allison wrote with her free hand, as they passed the third sign for Cuyahoga Valley National Park. _I bet this place is gorgeous in the fall. See all those trees?_ She had a flash of what it would be like to take Claire here, a hike or a train ride, Claire's voice shrill with excitement. The seasons in SoCal just weren't the same.  
  
She forced the thought away. This wasn't a pleasure trip.  
  
They checked in at an extended-stay hotel in the suburbs. Allison already had a few fake identities established for travel, as it was a pain to get recognized everywhere you went. Luckily, "Amber Harrison's" Michigan drivers license, plus Allison's ponytail and lack of makeup, seemed sufficient to fool the hotel clerk. It was nearing mid-afternoon; the woman was falling asleep at her desk.  
  
"Thanks," Allison mouthed, dangling the keys. The clerk grunted.  
  
Allison helped herself to complimentary lobby coffee, then motioned to Vanya and pointed down the hall. Vanya, bag in hand, had been staring at the carpet. She trudged behind Allison to their room.  
  
Allison had booked it last-minute. There was only one double bed.  
  
Vanya looked at the bed.  
  
_Don't worry about it_ , Allison wrote, and waved the notepad in front of Vanya's face. _You get settled in while I grab my luggage_. She set the notepad down, closed the door gently, and strode to the car with the keys in her pocket.  
  
Examining the contents of the trunk, Allison considered her next step. There was the wound on her throat to clean and dress. There was Vanya's medication regimen to finalize. Then they needed supplies, a change of clothes, and maybe a Taser. Before the last few things, though, they needed to rest. Adrenaline and purpose had sustained Allison through two nights; she'd crash soon, whether she chose to or not. Vanya had slept in the car, but not well. Okay. Meds first, giant slash in the throat second, sleep third. The rest could wait.  
  
Allison returned to find Vanya sitting on the bed. She had the TV remote and was scrolling through programs. Allison ducked into the bathroom. She returned with a handful of white pills and a glass of water.  
  
_Take your medicine_ , she wrote. She sat next to Vanya until Vanya had swallowed them all.  
  
Allison performed wound care while Vanya chose a show. It nauseated her to see her own body like this, let alone touch it, but Allison didn't back down from a challenge. The bathroom trash was full of alcohol pads and gauze by the time she finished. But the wound looked better, seemed like it was healing. She sometimes wondered if Dad hadn't slightly enhanced all their healing abilities. Not the gorilla serum thing, but just... something. Although it hadn't done Ben any good.  
  
Allison washed her hands until the water ran clear.  
  
In the main room, Vanya had flipped to the news. Her eyes were glued to the screen. Allison darted for her notepad, about to ask what was so interesting, but her question was answered before she had the chance.  
  
"...tragically, on the very night Ms. Vanya Hargreeves was to make her debut performance at the Icarus Theater. While the official investigation is still underway, both Hargreeves sisters are presumed dead at this time..."  
  
There was Vanya on the screen, smiling close-mouthed and holding a violin. The image changed to the headshot from the back of her book. Allison was struck for the first time by how sad both Vanyas looked.  
  
The presenter switched to a live feed. Fans were holding a vigil for Allison. There were hundreds at least, maybe thousands. They held photos of her, lit candles, wept. A few of them were dressed like her. Allison thought of Claire and almost gagged.  
  
She made to turn off the TV, but Vanya already had. Then Vanya, clearly having considered other targets first, threw the remote at the wall. The impact was dull and unsatisfying.  
  
Allison moved to touch her and thought better of it. Even that small advance made Vanya flinch violently away.  
  
Her notepad was too close on the bed to Vanya, so Allison took the hotel-supplied pen and paper from the nightstand. She wrote, _I'm sorry. I'm tired. Let's sleep._

 

-

 

The familiar motions of the nighttime routine calmed them both. Allison felt at least ten times better in clean pajamas with her teeth brushed. She nearly fell asleep while Vanya showered, the hotel bedding gloriously soft and welcoming to her tired body.

Vanya came to bed with wet hair. She slipped under the covers and curled on her side, back to Allison, as far away as she could get without falling off the bed.

Allison closed her eyes.

 

-

 

Vanya was still out when Allison awoke. She was in the same position that she'd fallen asleep in, curled miserably around an extra pillow. Her brow, furrowed, twitched as she slept. Allison watched her for a minute, then got up.

She showered, dressed, and left, locking the door from the outside.

First stop was the drugstore. Allison bought a deluxe first aid kit, a flashlight, three colors of hair dye, two pairs of reading glasses, a bunch of makeup, and a cane. Second stop was a hardware store: car stuff, duct tape, rope, zip ties, safety scissors. The dollar store yielded cheap food and baby wipes. They'd already missed the cutoff for the hotel's complimentary breakfast, so she stopped by Dunk & Go Nuts for smoothies and breakfast sandwiches. On her way back through the lobby, she picked up a black coffee for Vanya.

Vanya was sitting on the bed when Allison returned. She'd gotten dressed. "You locked me in," she said.

Allison shrugged. _Protecting you_ , she wrote.

"I'm not sure I believe that."

 _Up to you. I got breakfast._ Allison passed Vanya the coffee, smoothie, and sandwich. _Yours is vegetarian. I couldn't remember whether you eat meat_. She hadn't touched the scrapple, after all.

"Thanks," said Vanya warily. She lifted the coffee's travel lid, sniffed, then took a sip. When she didn't swoon to the ground in a faint or dramatically choke to death or whatever she'd been expecting, she took another sip. It wasn't good coffee, Allison knew, but she finished it fast anyway.

They ate and drank without further conversation. When Vanya went to use the bathroom, Allison took stock of her remaining pills. She had calculated that they would be good for at least two weeks. After that, she'd need to get more somehow. Otherwise she would have to employ the shitty first-gen antipsychotics she'd found in Dad's drug stash, and she really wasn't too keen on that.

If it came right down to it, though, nightmare zombie pills constituted a far superior option than what had been done (what Allison had done) to Vanya all those years ago. It certainly ranked higher than Luther's idea. However unstable Vanya was, she wasn't -- _lost_. She just needed to calm down, to adjust, to get a handle on her power. She needed time and a relaxed environment, and she wasn't going to get that with four maladjusted men running circles around her yelling about the apocalypse. With Allison, maybe she could -- maybe if Allison tried again, and was better, and --

She was fucked. She was so, so fucked. But at least this time she was trying.

 

-

 

"I still don't get what we're doing here."

Allison adjusted the bowler hat on top of her curls and raised an eyebrow at Vanya's reflection in the thrift store mirror. Vanya's mouth stayed in a hard, flat line. Allison pouted and returned the hat to its tree.

 _Shopping_ , she wrote. _You need clothes!_

"I have clothes." She did. Allison had seen them. They were largely plain work or dress shirts, pants, and jeans, with a few oversized items that Allison hated to suspect had been Harold's.

 _Maybe I need clothes_.

"You don't need clothes. Your wardrobe is the size of a, a _bus_. I saw the commercial for your episode on that reality show."

_Maybe I just wanted to spend some quality time with you._

"Oh my god," Vanya muttered.

_All that sisterly bonding we missed out on over the past decade..._

"Oh my god, please stop while you're ahead."

The cashier was regarding them with interest. Allison felt good about this. Something had begun bubbling up in her chest the moment she realized Vanya was speaking to her again. She'd complained all the way through downtown Cleveland, suspicion giving way to irritation and impatience, but she was engaging with Allison, really _engaging_ with her, and that was a start.

Allison wrote, _Besides, you owe me. You ruined my shirt_ _=(_

It was the wrong thing to say. Vanya's face shuttered closed. The matching "Ohio Is For Lovers" t-shirts Allison had thrown at her nearly slipped from her hand.

 _I'm sorry, I shouldn't have joked about that_.

"Don't apologize." Vanya hunched her shoulders, the sad old woman again. "I'll go pay for these."

 

-

 

Back at the hotel, Vanya passed out soon after taking her medicine. Allison stayed up late, examining a road atlas. Next stop was either Detroit or Chicago. She'd decide in the morning.

In bed, her thoughts kept drifting to the others. Klaus, Diego, Five... It hurt to think about Luther. He'd never forgive her once he found out. Maybe if she succeeded in this thing with Vanya... But even then. She had never betrayed his trust like this before.

Vanya was curled on her side again. Lit by the streetlights outside, the curve of her back was slight and lonely, vulnerable. Allison watched her breathe until she fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

They reached Chicago right before the snowstorm hit. Looking down from the window of their fifth-floor suite in an old hotel, Allison wrote, _This isn't what I expected._

She walked to Vanya and showed her the notepad. Vanya said, "Then what did you expect? It's the Midwest."

 _It's_ _April_ _!_

"Midwest," Vanya repeated. Her mood seemed brighter. She had made a pot of tea with the hotel coffeemaker and was reading tourist ephemera. Allison paced and brooded while Vanya sorted the pamphlets she'd collected from the lobby, tossing some across the bed and piling others to her front or side. A dog-eared lifestyle magazine lay open on her nightstand.

 _I'm going downstairs_ , wrote Allison. _Need anything?_ She intended to use the business center and pick the concierge's brain about the safest routes for extreme weather driving.

"Nah, I'm good. Can we go ice skating while we're here? When the storm stops, I mean?"

It was the first request Vanya had made so far without Allison offering. It took her aback. _Sure._

The corner of Vanya's mouth turned up. "Okay."

Allison was still puzzling over it when she left the room, so she missed Vanya's sharp intake of breath as the lock clicked behind her.

 

 

-

 

 

Ice skating had never been Allison's forte, even with that romcom she'd done about an FBI agent undercover at the Winter Olympics. Still, it was hard to look anything but graceful on the ice next to Vanya.

The third or fourth time Vanya slipped and fell, stony anger came over her face and she refused Allison's hand up. Allison feared she might just stay there. They were getting looks from the few other skaters at the rink. Then Vanya did get up, though, dusted off the anger like snow, and the next time she fell she laughed it off. She never really got the hang of it, kept stumbling and bumbling and ate the ice a few times in ways that made Allison wince, but it was like she had chosen to have fun anyway. It was nice. Different from Allison’s memories.

Vanya went around the perimeter, hugging the wall, and Allison skated experimental circles in the middle. It was easy to lose herself in the glide of her skates, the crisp air nipping at her face. When Allison's over-optimistic attempt at a pirouette engendered her first and only fall, Vanya skated over and mock-fell next to her. She smiled at Allison. Allison smiled back.

Afterward, they got hot cocoa -- well, Allison got hot cocoa and Vanya got coffee -- and walked to Buckingham Fountain, passing fences and construction signs for Millennium Park (would that ever get finished?). Although it was still chilly out, it wasn't nearly as bitter as it had been. Allison considered asking Vanya if she wanted to see a museum, maybe the Art Institute or the aquarium, but Vanya's step was slowing and she stifled a yawn. Back to the hotel it was, then.

Vanya groaned in relief as they stepped inside the heated train. "Oh, that feels good. I didn't know how cold I was."

Allison agreed. _How do people live like this? I'd never get used to it._

"California spoiled you," Vanya teased. "You shoveled snow with the rest of them, remember."

Them, not us. Dad hadn't liked to let Vanya out. _And I almost got frostbite._

"Mom said you were fine."

_I couldn't feel my fingers!_

"Are you sure that wasn't just a ploy for Luther to, you know--"

Allison shoved a finger to Vanya's lips, glaring daggers, and Vanya laughed helplessly.

 

 

-

 

 

_I have to shower. Do you want to go first?_

Vanya's shoulders did a shivery little motion. "No thanks. I think I'd freeze to the wall."

_Make sure to take your meds._

"Okay," Vanya echoed. Allison watched Vanya reach for the water glass and the little napkinful of pills before she closed the bathroom door.

When Allison emerged, shower cap still on her head, Vanya was already asleep. It wasn't even six, but Allison felt tempted to join her. A nap couldn't hurt, could it? She'd just rest for an hour, and then... Then they would talk.

 

 

-

 

 

"I can't believe room service delivers after 10 PM."

_This is a four-star establishment. Room service is 24/7._

"Who's ordering french fries at 3 AM?"

_College students. Truckers. Movie stars._

"Now I feel cheated. I'm in a fancy hotel with a movie star, and she hasn't even thrown the TV out the window."

Allison gasped and put her hand to her chest in mock indignation. Vanya grinned at her, all ease, or as much ease as Vanya could be. It felt good to see her like that, and unfamiliar. It twisted Allison's heart a little.

Dinner arrived courtesy of an immensely grouchy bellhop. He kept scowling as Allison tipped him. They could hear him sort of stomp down the hall after, which had to be awkward while you were wheeling a cart. Allison did an impression of him, because it was very late and she wanted to hear Vanya laugh, and they both broke out into giggles.

"Man, I'm starving," said Vanya. "Do you think they remembered the hot sauce?"

Allison made a face, because eww. Who put hot sauce on spaghetti? Well, Vanya. Vanya did.

They had remembered the hot sauce. It came in a little tiny bottle with a little tiny label, and apparently it was just enough for Vanya's spaghetti. Allison blew on her french fries and sipped her strawberry milkshake judgmentally. Vanya paid her back by taking too much time to twine noodles around her fork, and also saying "mmm" in an exaggerated manner. At a certain point they just started enjoying themselves, silliness and hunger and satiety. Allison shared her fries and then they ate a big slice of chocolate cake with a scoop of long-melted ice cream, competing over the frosting and scraping every trace from the plate.

"You used to do this with Luther," Vanya said.

Allison looked at her.

"Midnight feast. I was so jealous of you guys." Vanya lowered her eyes. "I guess that was stupid. I could have made my own feasts."

Allison made grabby hands for her notepad. Vanya gave it to her. _I'm sorry, Vanya. We didn't think anyone knew._

"It's fine. You guys were really obvious, but like -- it's fine. I didn't know much about that kind of stuff then. I still don't."

 _H_ \-- Allison wrote, and then thought better of it, crossed it out. Vanya looked away, and it took her a beat to speak.

"Leonard -- Harold -- wasn't the first guy I went out with, but he was the only guy who stuck around more than a couple of days. It sounds dumb, but he made me feel -- special. Like he believed in me. Like I was important to someone for the first time."

_Vanya..._

"He was only interested in my powers, I know. It felt real for a while. It started getting weird in the forest, after he knew for sure what I could do. It's okay. I won't make that mistake again. He was really -- I feel bad about it, but I learned. Did you know anyone like that?"

_More of them than you can imagine. If I'd been younger when I started acting, I'm sure the same thing would've happened to me._

"What do you mean?"

_Someone like Harold would have gotten to me. There are creeps everywhere. When you're young and vulnerable, it's hard to tell someone's intentions or remember that you can stick up for yourself. A lot of my friends were in relationships with shitty guys or got harassed by people they worked with. There was this one director who tried to -- well, I don't really want to talk about it, but let's just say Dad's training came in handy._

(Patrick had always been so respectful. Allison was the one he needed to watch out for.)

_You don't have to feel bad. I was frustrated when you didn't listen to me, but it's not your fault that he fooled you. You got out. You know better now._

There was a long, painful moment where Vanya stared into space. Allison re-read her own words, wondering what she'd done wrong.

Vanya took a deep breath. Without meeting Allison's eyes, she said, "You know I killed him, right?"

There were many ways Allison could have responded to this. _I understand why you did it, but it was wrong_. _You were out of control, but it was wrong_. _He hurt you, but it was wrong_.

_Two wrongs don't make a right._

_An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, Vanya._

Instead she wrote,  _Good_.

Vanya made a tiny sound that might have been a gasp. Allison held out her hand, and she took it.

 

 

-

 

 

The Midwest tour recommenced at noon. The day was bright and sunny; snow had melted to slush in the streets. Allison had determined that their first stop would be Atlanta, just over two and half hours away, to see the statue of misspelled Paul Bunyan with a giant hot dog. After that they had no plans.

Vanya insisted they buy a disposable camera before they left. "You should take pictures for Claire. So she feels included."

That was nice to think about, as long as Allison didn't think about it too hard.

They drank too much coffee and jammed out to pop music on the way to Atlanta. They were just starting to get antsy when their exit came up. Vanya took too many pictures of Allison posing in front of Paul Bunyon -- Allison couldn't help it, she was used to being photographed -- so they got a couple more disposable cameras at a local drugstore and used the bathroom while they were at it. The cashier, perhaps overexcited by the appearance of strangers outside tourist season, recommended a number of landmarks and novelty restaurants along Route 66. They assured him they would try their best to check out the the Blue Whale in Catoosa, Oklahoma. After that, they got a picture at the town's iconic clocktower slash library slash museum and hit the road.

Dinner was corn dogs at a roadside diner that somehow emitted the aura of a well-foxed paperback mystery. Allison was absolutely messing with the terms of her diet, but who cared. She took a picture of Vanya slurping the bottom of their shared chocolate malted milkshake, eyes lowered in concentration and a contented smile hinting at the corners of her mouth. They giggled at each other like kids when they decided to get dessert to go.

Somewhere after St. Louis, where they got stuck in traffic and resorted to a loud radio talk show to stay awake, it was conceded that they both felt tired. So they drove until they saw signs for a motel and exited the highway there.

The retro sign glowed: **_VACANCY_**.

In a matter of minutes, they had a room. Two beds. Cable TV. Complimentary beverage selection (cheap coffee, black tea, two kinds of sweetener). A tub, not that either wanted to take a bath in a motel tub. The possibility of a hairdryer on loan from the front office. Luxury!

"Allison," said Vanya, palm full of pills for the night. She had rigged the coffeemaker to brew in the morning and was changed into pajamas. "I wanted to say thank you. I had a really good time today."

 _So did I_ , wrote Allison, light as air.

 

-

 

 

They had almost fallen asleep when there came a knock at the door. Allison's brow wrinkled. Housekeeping? This late? But she answered anyway. Blame St. Louis traffic that she didn't bother to look through the peephole.

"Surprise, bitch," said Cha-Cha.

Allison barely ducked before she fired.

They had fought before. This time, the advantage was decidedly Cha-Cha's. Allison's limbs were slow with exhaustion from a day of driving, her head fuzzy and disoriented. She managed to knock the gun from Cha-Cha's hand, but after that her attention was focused on parrying a series of increasingly brutal blows. She dared a glance behind her -- Vanya had hidden, thank god -- and only just dodged an uppercut. Cha-Cha kneed her in the stomach next. Allison fell back onto her bed.

"Where's Five?"

Allison shook her head. Her brain was swimming.

"I said where. Is. Five." Cha-Cha leaned in, her forearm across Allison's throat. "And I'm not talking to you. Come out and drop the gun."

There were shuffling sounds. Vanya emerged from under the other bed. She did in fact have Cha-Cha's gun.

"Put it on the ground. Now."

The gun clattered to the floor.

"Hands above your head. Come on!" Cha-Cha pressed harder on Allison’s throat, making her gag. Vanya complied.

"Now you're going to tell me what I need to know, or else your pretty sister here gets it." Cha-Cha glared at Vanya. "Can you do that? Can you talk?"

"I can talk," Vanya hazarded.

"Great. So that's established. Where the fuck is that little asshole?"

"If you mean Five, I don't know. She doesn't either. We -- we're trying to get away from him and all the rest of them. Can't you just let us go?"

"Sell me another bridge. Where is he?" Cha-Cha's arm was cutting off Allison's air supply. Allison gasped, choked, tried to meet Vanya's eyes.

"The last time we saw him was back in New York. Please! I'll do whatever you want, please just stop."

Cha-Cha relented a bit. Allison heaved in gulps of air.

"Start talking," said Cha-Cha.

"He said something about Dallas," Vanya lied. "President Kennedy. Did something happen there?"

Cha-Cha's hold on Allison had loosened. Allison took stock of the parts of her body that were free. For some reason, it seemed like the ground was moving.

"What the fuck?" said Cha-Cha.

The ground was definitely moving. It vibrated in time with some unknown sound. It swept out Cha-Cha's footing, and then Alison had room to kick her, slap her down, deliver a knockout blow that had her falling to the floor.

Vanya unclenched her fists and smiled.

 

 

-

 

 _We need to talk_.

“I thought you trusted me.”

_I did trust you, because… wait for it... I thought you were taking your damn meds!_

“I don’t like them, okay? They make me feel weak. Helpless. I don’t know why you want to make me feel like that.”

 _Vanya, you lied to me and put us both in danger. You can’t control yourself without meds. The last time you used your powers around me, you almost_ _killed_ _me._

“That’s not fair.”

Anger seized Allison. _Is THIS fair?_ She tugged her collar down and pointed at the bandage on her throat. _Can you look me in the eye and tell me this is_ _fair?_

“You did the same thing to me,” Vanya muttered.

Allison stared at her.

“I-I mean, it’s not exactly the same thing. But it’s similar.”

_Are you fucking kidding me?_

“Allison --”

_No. Stop talking. STOP._

_Do you mind telling me what the fuck I’m doing here, Vanya? I have been trying to HELP YOU. I left our family behind and gave up the chance to see my daughter, possibly ever again. I did things that our brothers will never forgive me for. I faked my own goddamn death. I sacrificed EVERYTHING, because I thought I could reach you, help you. Because I didn’t want you to be punished for my sake again. Because_ _I LOVE YOU_ _. But apparently you don’t feel the same way._

_Now you can talk. It better be good._

_Well?_

“I’m sorry.” Vanya was in tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t -- I know it’s not the same. I just get mad, and -- I’m sorry. I’ll take my medication. Please, Allison, let me make this up to you.”

She reached for the pill bottle. Before Allison could stop her, she poured out a handful and swallowed them dry. She capped the bottle and flung it away.

“Please,” Vanya sobbed, sinking to her knees on the carpet. “Please. I’ll try harder. I’ll do anything, please.” She cried harder and fell slightly forward, curled in on herself. A painting fell off the motel room wall.

Allison would have let her cry it out, but the furniture rattled faster with each sob that wracked Vanya’s body, and she didn’t like Cha-Cha’s chances with the closet rack. She knelt and placed a hand on Vanya’s shoulder. Vanya flinched. She was hyperventilating. One of the lamps fell and broke.

Allison rubbed Vanya’s back in steady, constant strokes. She scooted her legs right up next to Vanya’s and stayed firm, willing her body into heaviness, breathing deep breaths. Gradually, slowly, Vanya calmed down.

She was shivering when she turned and pushed her face into Allison’s shoulder. Allison pulled her closer, still breathing steadily. Vanya clung to her. For such a skinny little person, she had a strong grip.

“I’m sorry,” Vanya repeated, muffled by Allison’s chest. She was crying silently. Allison wrapped her arms tighter around her and rocked them both in little motions, until Vanya’s sniffles had died down and her tears were drying on Allison’s neck.

Allison patted her arm to get up. They rose at once and Vanya disentangled herself. Allison reached for her notepad.

_I appreciate the apology. It’s clear we have a lot to work on._

_Tell me the truth next time, okay_?

“Okay,” Vanya agreed.

_Why don’t you take a rest? It’ll be a while before Cha-Cha wakes up._

Vanya nodded robotically. “Okay. I need to blow my nose.”

Vanya got herself tissues and drank a glass of water while Allison surveyed the wreckage. There was no helping that lamp, but the painting seemed only a little dinged up. She retrieved a few shards of lightbulb before giving up, fetching a towel to cover the affected area and writing a note: _BROKEN GLASS -- SORRY!!!_

Vanya lay on her side. Allison draped a blanket over her, and she offered a wan smile.

Allison sat on the edge of the bed and waited. Now that the crisis was over, she felt drained and achy. Cha-Cha had inflicted more than a few bruises. Thinking of Cha-Cha reminded her to check on the woman, who was safely tied up and unconscious in the closet, looking hardly the worse for wear.

Vanya’s breath had evened out. Her shoulders relaxed.

It would be fine to close her eyes for a minute, right? Just a minute. Then she’d get up and get the coffee brewing. Just a minute...

 

 

-

 

 

Allison emerged from bizarre and vivid dreams to find herself alone.

The bed was bereft of Vanya's weight. The closet was empty of time-traveling assassins. Her car had vanished from the parking lot. Vanya's bag and meds were gone. There were no signs of struggle, no indications of what might have happened, aside from a note under Vanya's pillow that Allison nearly missed.

 _I'm sorry_. _\--V_

Allison sank to the floor and screamed soundlessly into her hands.

"Wow, you really fucked things up," a familiar voice remarked. Allison didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Five.


	3. Chapter 3

**_SIX DAYS AGO_ **

Allison lay awake. Beside her, Luther mumbled in his sleep. Though the painkillers Grace and Pogo had given her lingered in her system, she felt tense and keyed-up anyway, sluggish and tired but unable to rest. She replayed the events of the day over and over: The windchimes at the cabin. Vanya's rage, then shock. Pain, panic, helplessness -- she had thought she'd die like that, gargling her own blood while Vanya sobbed and apologized. And now Vanya --

Vanya was locked in the vault. Luther said they could never let her out.

It wasn't right. Allison had attacked her first, had acted without thinking, and it wasn't fair to punish Vanya for defending herself. The thing with the nannies was bad, but it had happened a long time ago. Vanya was under a lot of stress now. It made sense that she'd act out. If they had just let Allison talk to her...

Allison shifted, mind racing. Her stomach roiled. Maybe it was just the drugs, but she was starting to get an idea.

 

 

-

 

 

**_THE PRESENT DAY_ **

"So, that's the situation," said Five. "The Temps Commission has been scrambling to account for the timeline discrepancy you caused, and for the most part they've succeeded. The apocalypse has been rescheduled. By my estimate, it should now occur within six to eight days."

"Kind of a cocktease, this apocalypse," Klaus observed from his perch on the headboard. He and Diego had arrived while Five scolded Allison, then made themselves at home while Five started the coffee, launched into exposition, spat out his first sip of coffee, and reached his conclusion. Diego sat in the corner sharpening his knives. They all seemed surprisingly un-pissed-off.

Allison wrote, _That seems pretty lax for_ _the Commission. What happened to preserving the timeline?_

Five grunted. "There's been a change in leadership. They're rethinking policy. I saw it happen after the Amelia Earhart situation -- now _that_ was a debacle." Diego and Klaus raised their eyebrows at each other.

Five continued, "Anyway, I need to find a decent source of caffeine before we discuss further. Klaus, Diego, make yourselves useful and check the room for bugs." He swept out, letting the door slam behind him.

_Bugs?_

"Trackers," said Diego. "Do you mind if I go through your suitcase?"

Klaus examined the walls and furniture, chatting to himself. Diego inspected Allison's belongings. Allison hugged a pillow to her chest and tried not to worry about Vanya. Five had said over and over again that she was too valuable for the Commission to harm, that they were going to find her, but it was hard to think about her trapped with Cha-Cha. She still didn't understand why they were here instead of searching for her. How could the others seem so calm about this?

"Huh." Diego rattled one of the disposable cameras. "I don't like the sound of this. Okay if I look inside?"

Allison hesitated. _Okay, but try to keep from exposing the film._

Diego carefully sliced away the cardboard and pried the bottom open with his knifepoint. The film canister fell, just a quarter-inch or so of undeveloped film sticking out of it. 

Diego shook the canister. It still rattled.

"Sorry, but I have to."

Allison watched him pull the film out. The dream of Claire's photo album vanished. She had to look down so she wouldn't see their faces. Tears swam in her eyes.

"Yep." Diego had reached the end. He plucked out a flashing capsule about the size of a Mike'n'Ike. "Look. You gotta watch out for these." He waited for her to nod, then dropped the tracker and crushed it under his boot.

_You guys. I know it doesn't mean much, but I'm sorry._

Diego sounded sad. "Allison. It's okay."

"Yeah, Allison, don't sweat it," said Klaus. "We've all made mistakes. At least nobody died this time."

 _Where's Luther_? _Is he all right?_

Diego and Klaus exchanged glances.

"He's okay," said Diego. "He stayed home."

Klaus said, "Luther went apeshit, heh, if you know what I mean. When he thought you were dead. We had to lock him in the vault--"

 _WHAT?_ Allison almost tackled him.

"Don't worry, it was just for, like, a couple of hours. The rest of us immediately figured out you were alive, obviously."

"Says Mister 'Where The Fuck Is My Ouija Board,'" muttered Diego.

"Anyway, Luther and Pogo are working on some kind of sonar thing to help with Vanya. He said to tell you he's not mad, just disappointed. Which, like, as if Luther could ever stay mad at you."

 _I know_. Allison smiled through her tears. It hurt so much to think about Luther. She'd always known she had the upper hand in their relationship, but knowing and _knowing_ were two different things. In some other universe, maybe, a different Allison had chosen to treat him the way he deserved. She hoped he was happy there.

"So, yeah." Klaus made his "s" sibilant: _sssssssssss_. "That about sums it up. Any more questions? How was it with you and, uh, Vanya?"

_We went ice skating and saw a statue of Paul Bunyan eating a hot dog. How are Mom and Pogo?_

"Vanya? Voluntarily participated in a novel physical activity? Diego, fetch my smelling salts. Gr--Mom is Mom, you know how she is. Pogo, uh, well, he's okay. He--" Klaus turned and addressed the air to his right. "Hey, will you shut up? I'm trying to tell a story."

Allison frowned. Diego clarified, "Ben's here. He's with Klaus all the time."

"Yeah, and I can manifest him now! Ben, come say hi."

Nothing.

"He's shy," Klaus explained. Diego snorted.

 _Hi, Ben_ , Allison wrote. She waved at Klaus' right and held up the notepad, so that Ben, if he was there, could see.

"Aw. He waved back."

 

 

-

 

 

Five returned with a bag of convenience store sandwiches and a tray of jumbo coffees. He surprised everyone by setting the tray down among them and only taking one coffee.

"Well?" he demanded.

Diego showed him the broken tracker. "This was in the film compartment of a disposable camera."

"Shit." Five took a long pull of coffee. "New rule: From now on, no picking up anything new unless you take it apart first. I mean _anything_. Including cigarettes, Klaus."

"But--"

"No offense, but I really don't like the idea of traveling with him when he can't smoke," said Diego.

Five sighed. "Fine. But you open the pack, you look at each one, you toss the whole thing if anything seems off. No new lighters. Matches only. Actually, give me your lighter."

"Aw, come on!" said Klaus, but he rummaged around in his pockets anyway. He laid the lighter on the table with a wistful look.

 _This all seems a little paranoid_ , Allison offered.

"We can talk about 'paranoid' when the Temps soldiers show up to shoot our faces off," Five snapped. "And considering that your excellent judgment got us here in the first place, I'm a little disinclined to take your advice."

He grabbed the tracker and Klaus' lighter and stomped off to the bathroom. They heard the toilet flush.

"He doesn't mean it," said Diego. "He's just -- we're all a little stressed."

"Tell me about it," muttered Klaus, helping himself to coffee.

 _No, I deserved that_. _I understand why he's frustrated_.

"You don't have to take the blame all the time, Allison."

"Yeah," Klaus chimed in through a mouthful of sandwich, "that's what I'm here for."

Allison made a face at him.

Five returned from the bathroom. "Finish up and look alive. We need to hit the road."

 

 

-

 

 

The drive to Dallas was almost ten hours. Five kept talking about "making an appointment," but refused to share the details with anyone else. "I'll see when we get there," he said over and over. He was so tense that Klaus offered him a cigarette -- "Fuck _off_!" -- and he wouldn't stop checking his watch.

Diego and Allison were supposed to share driving duties, which was nice. Allison had gotten used to shouldering all the driving herself. Klaus suggested they let Ben drive too, which everyone shot down. ("You're breaking his heart, guys.") Five scowled at a road atlas, which he seemed to be comparing to the exit signs along I-30. Every pothole made him jump, and sometimes he turned around to look at cars in the side mirror.

At some point Diego got fed up and turned on the radio. At some point after that, Five fell asleep. At another point, Klaus threatened to pee in Diego's coffee until they pulled over, and at a different point Five had a nightmare and tried to strangle the road atlas. All in all, a standard family trip, except for the part where Allison had to consciously stop her thoughts from straying to either Vanya or Claire. Or Luther. Or Pogo. Or -- When Klaus shook the pack of cigarettes at her, she accepted.

 

 

-

 

 

It was dark before they reached Dallas. They were all utterly exhausted except Five, whose renewed alertness came courtesy of a four-pack of cheap energy drinks, the taste of which he likened to cat piss. He directed them to a vacant lot not far from Dealey Plaza and motioned for Allison to pull over.

"There should be something here that I stashed back when the Commission had assigned me to assassinate JFK. If it's still there, we might still have a chance. Diego, you're with me. Allison, Klaus, stay with the car. If we aren't back in," Five checked his watch, "twenty minutes, you need to get out of here."

He shut the door and took off zapping from place to place, leaving the long-suffering Diego to jog after him. Klaus unbuckled his seatbelt and spread out lengthwise in the back seat.

"What?" he said when Allison glared at him in the rearview. "Stretching my legs." He crossed his arms behind his head and settled in.

The first five minutes trickled by. The streetlights took on an eerie glow, amplified by and contrasted with the lights of city buildings. The rush of evening traffic sounded like the waves of a restless and resentful ocean. Allison slunk down in her seat and checked the mirrors. She hated feeling useless.

Ten minutes. Klaus tapped his fingers on the window.

Fifteen minutes. Allison was starting to get nervous, not that she hadn't been nervous before. She exchanged wan smiles with Klaus.

Eighteen minutes. She started the engine.

Twenty minutes. "Where the fuck are they?" Klaus had sat up again and was jiggling his leg. "No shit, Ben. If you don't have anything useful to say, maybe keep it to yourself."

Twenty-five minutes. "Allison, we need to leave." _No._

Twenty-eight minutes. "Is that--"

It was. Diego came into view, Five slung over his shoulder. A gaggle of gas-masked soldiers were hot on their heels. Klaus unlocked his door and ran out to Diego. Allison rolled down the passenger-side window. 

"What the hell, what are you still doing here!" Diego yelled, but he let Klaus take Five from him and hustle him into the backseat. Diego slammed the passenger door behind him. Klaus got in after Five and locked his own door. Allison hit the gas.

Gunfire. Everyone ducked. Allison accelerated and narrowly avoided swerving into the opposite lane. She took the first freeway entrance she saw.

Five was conscious but bleeding from the leg; Klaus scrambled to make a tourniquet. In the passenger seat, Diego fiddled with a cylindrical metal canister. He managed to get it open, but the contents spilled out on the floor.

"Get the gum!" said Five. Diego scrabbled around and found several things that were not gum, finally alighting on a likely object. He showed it to Five. "This right?"

Up ahead, something weird was happening to traffic. Allison realized why when she saw the advancing wall of soldiers.

Five tore open the gum packet. "Each of you, take one." He took a stick and passed it to Klaus, who took another and threw the pack back to Diego. Diego selected one for himself and one for Allison, who accepted without taking her hand off the steering wheel.

"Now we all need to unwrap these at the same time. On the count of three, two, ONE--"

Allison got hers open right before they collided with the car in front of them.

 

 

-

 

 

"You're fucking heavy, Diego."

"The word is 'fit,' brother."

Allison gently detached herself from Five, who was still groaning. She offered him a hand up. They rose and looked around.

It was a warm, breezy day. The sun shone down from a bright blue sky. They stood at the edge of a cracked and dusty highway, on either side of which stretched orange-brown desert dotted with rocks and shrubs. Mountains loomed in the distance, purple and gray in the midday light. A half-mile or so down the road, a dirt path led to an old motel bearing the sign: _**HOT ROCK INN**_.

"There," said Five, pointing. He started limping towards the motel. Allison, concerned, strode to catch up with him, and Klaus and Diego followed.

The walk seemed to take forever. Five kept going regardless of his pain, refusing their offers to carry him or let him lean on them. The horizon looked like it was shimmering with heat. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, obviously, but they were all tired and disoriented and still running on adrenaline. Allison's head throbbed. She had to shut her eyes against the sun.

At last they reached the motel. There was no attendant in the office. Five rang the bell once, twice, then grunted in impatience and got Diego to shatter the service window. He zapped himself inside and read the log book.

"Room 11," he announced, pocketing the master keys, and zapped himself out.

Room 11's windows were closed. They all held their breath as Five slowly turned the key in the lock. Diego readied his knives. Klaus did some kind of pose with his fists up. Allison steadied herself and tried to focus.

Five opened the door as quietly as he could. Nothing.

But none of them were prepared for what they saw next. Cha-Cha was there, all right -- she lay supine between the two beds, unmoving. Only the faint rise and fall of her chest indicated life. Wood shards and broken glass surrounded her. The room was completely trashed. There were light smears of blood on the walls, the impression of a bloody handprint. The breeze blew in through a smashed window. A scrap of fabric that Allison recognized from Vanya's "Ohio Is For Lovers" t-shirt fluttered in it, torn and stuck.

"Fuck," breathed Five. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_." He sank to his knees, then wobbled and fell over on his side. He clasped his hands to his face. "God _damn_ it. I'm too late. It happened again."


End file.
